Journey
by Georgiaish
Summary: Set after Titanic. Newly inspired Rose visits Jack's hometown, Chippewa Falls. What surprises await her there? Can she find the strength to go on without Jack? And who is the handsome stranger that she meets? Rose/?
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! I'm back and neglecting my essay once more :D I haven't done a continuing story for ages and this idea came to me when I was doing two things;**

**Neglecting my history essay.**

**Eating celery.**

**Disclaimer – I don't own **_**Titanic**_** or any characters or anything, ever.**

**Enjoy and review?**

_28__th__ June 1912_

As she stepped off the train, small carry case in hand, she felt instant relief to feel the warm wind flow around her. It was the first breeze she had felt in days and after the torturous third class, three day train journey, she realised how she must not take such a simple thing for granted again.

She stepped down onto the smallest platform she had ever seen, to see that it was completely empty except for her. Confused, she took a minute to observe her surroundings. There were a few benches and behind the train track were trees, as far as she could see. This was certainly different to any journey she had endured in her lifetime; she was used to splendid train journeys in private booths and they would always end somewhere grand; London, Philadelphia, Paris. But she never wanted to experience another journey with Cal or her Mother again and thus here she was, stood alone in the middle of a deserted platform, miles away from any major city.

She walked up to a small board that was on the wall of the station, and read its contents;

'_Six miles to Chippewa Falls_

_Thirteen Miles to Victoria Springs_

_Twenty Nine miles to Clancy Maple; see train times at main reception._

_Carts into Chippewa Falls run from 7am – 6pm Mon to Sat. No carts on Sundays. Ran by local Ian Calvert, first door out of the station.'_

Rose was out of the door before she realised she had started walking. Behind the lonely cart was an old dusty road and nothing else, no buildings, just grass and trees. She suddenly felt a wave of uneasiness overwhelm her. There were no people and Chippewa Falls was six miles away; it was as if she had stepped into a ghost town.

Suddenly, as if on cue, a young man jumped up from behind one of the two horses, causing Rose to jump backwards. Giving the horse a pat on the nose, he dashed to her as if afraid she may fall.

"Excuse me Ma'am! I didn't hear you there, are you looking for a cart into town?" Rose simply nodded at him, and he took her small bag from her and placed it in the cart, before offering her his hand. She took it graciously and stepped in to the cart. She turned and saw the man looking at her curiously, but she trusted him for reasons she could not muster. His kind eyes calmed her uneasy mind and his smile almost made her want to smile too. He supposed she should get used to curious looks; although she now dressed like and tried to act like a person of third class, a lifetime of luxuries and her upper class lifestyle had left their mark on her in the way she spoke and walked, and she doubted they would ever change.

He climbed up and upon whipping the horses; they began their journey into town. Rose enjoyed the journey tremendously, despite the bumpiness and slight nausea it caused. Oliver, it turned out was good company and she enjoyed their conversation immensely, in which they had spoken about Chippewa Falls, and Rose's train journey from New York. Although she had spent the journey talking to Oliver's head of wavy, dark brown hair, she felt better to have spoken to another human being after having not said a word for days. She hadn't mentioned anything about how long she had been there or why she had come to this small town that was so far away from civilisation.

Rose thought it looked perfect. When they reached the town that was Chippewa Falls, Oliver jumped down from the front of the cart so quickly that Rose didn't even notice until she felt her hand willingly take his as she stepped down onto the ground.

"And you only run the carts on Saturdays?" He handed her her bag after she insisted that she could manage it, and she stood before him. "Yes, my father runs it on weekdays, when I work at the butchers down the road. He's getting on you see, so he could do with the help" he smiled and closed the passenger door, "not that I mind one bit; I get to meet interesting people, and I enjoy that very much." He added and she saw his deep blue eyes twinkle as he hesitated getting back into the cart. He missed the pang of sorrow that passed over Rose's face as she registered how similar the colour of his eyes was to Jack's.

"Are you sure you'll be alright? Because I can take five and show you around" She smiled, in spite of herself but raised her hand.

"Thank you, but I'll manage." He looked disappointed, and Rose noticed, but pretended she didn't. Jack had wanted her to move on, but she doubted she would be able to think of a man in that way for years. Until then, she had decided to travel alone and see all the places Jack had told her about, whilst desperately wishing that he could somehow be with her. Although she believed he was, spiritually, she would have given the World for him to be holding her hand and showing her his old home with his childish enthusiasm that she loved.

She handed him some money and he took it, placing it in the pocket of his overalls.

"If you insist, I hope to see you around, Rose." With this he took her hand and kissed it, much to her surprise, and he got back into the cart and travelled back in the direction they had just come in.

With a deep breath, she allowed herself to observe her surroundings. Without a doubt, she had never seen anywhere like this before; Oliver had taken her into the centre of town, and there were buildings, not big by her standards but they were bigger than the houses that were behind them. The larger buildings were for businesses, and she saw that one of them was the butchers that Oliver had told her of earlier. There was also a grocery store, town hall and a beautiful church, among other things, and each had people leisurely going in and leaving them, going about their daily business.

She felt her eyes well up. _This is where he lived... _but she swallowed back her tears, determined to keep her raw emotions from surfacing while she was in the street. She would never allow her pain to show whilst around other people, but at night, when all was silent and she was truly alone, she would allow herself to mourn for her lost love.

Blinking back tears and pushing thoughts of Jack to the back of her mind, she headed toward the grocery store.

At the counter there was a rather large man, with a striking dark moustache. When she entered, the two middle aged woman at the front of the shop began to whisper; _gossip is sure to spread quickly in a town this small_, thoughtRose, but she turned a blind eye and went straight up to the man at the counter.

"Excuse me, Sir, but could you please point me in the direction of a guest house, please?" she asked politely, letting more of her upper class roots through then she had hoped.

The man raised an eyebrow; indicating that it was a rare occasion in this town for a first class visitor to come and visit.

"Of course, say!, you're not from around here are you?" he placed his elbow on the counter and glared at the gossiping women behind Rose, who were listening in with strenuous effort at what Rose had to say. At this, they shuffled their feet for a moment then, with expressions so sour they could have rivalled Rose's mother, left.

"No, Philadelphia actually" _I certainly hope everyone's not this nosey, _thought Rose, her aggravation from her exhausting journey settling in.

The man whistled, "And what brings you here, to Chippewa Falls? We don't have no big cities nearby or anything!" The man chuckled to himself, while Rose smiled, a severely rehearsed smile that she had used to Cal many times.

"Actually, I had a friend that came from here, he spoke fondly of it. I just wanted to see where he came from and grew up." She felt those tears rising again at the thought of Jack; this was the first time she had mentioned him to anyone.

"And where's the guy now?" The man seemed blind to Rose's distress and gave her a warm smile, lifting his whole moustache.

_At the bottom of the North Atlantic. _"He Died." she offered without expression, and was glad when the man, though clearly interested, didn't pry.

"Oh, um... sorry to hear that. I'm Clarence Simons, by the way, and the guest house is just up the street, a few houses away. If you need anything, I'm work here every day."

Rose saw the embarrassment on his face, and the sympathy in his eyes.

"I'm Rose. Rose D... Darcy." She had gotten so used to introducing herself as Rose Dawson that she almost let it slip. But she didn't want questions to be risen about her relationship with the Chippewa Falls Dawson's, so she gave a different name; one that she always wanted to be called as a young teenager. "Thank you." She smiled and left and once again found herself on the main street of town. The women that she had seen were sat nearby on a bench, still talking and looking at her in a way she didn't care for. She could see them better now, and it appeared that one of them was not much older than her, if at all, and the other was clearly an older relation. They both had the same mousy hair and dark eyes, but the main difference between them was their weight; the daughter, Rose assumed, was petit and slim and her mother was much larger. They both had unkind faces, with lips twisted in revulsion.

Seeing their curiosity about her, she ignored them and headed off to the guest house.

The guest house was one of the biggest buildings on the street, behind the church and town hall. It was run by a widow, Dorothy Miller, who welcomed Rose in with open arms and after cooking her a small supper allowed Rose to get some much needed rest, which she was thankful for.

"Yes, and breakfast will be at seven, is that too early? Of course it is! You've been travelling all day, you'll be exhausted; I'll make it for nine instead then!"

"Thank you." Rose smiled at the kind woman, who seemed to have tired herself out by talking. When she was left alone, she took out her few belongings and placed them in various places around the room.

Reaching into the bag for more of her belongings, Rose pulled out a necklace, which had caught onto her finger. Tenderly, she stroked the diamond and closed her eyes as the image of Jack's eyes swam before her. She sat on the bed, and didn't try and fight the tears that she felt coming. They fell gracefully from her cheeks, and landed silently on her nightgown.

"_I want you to draw me like one of your French girls..." _

Unable to contain her emotions any longer, she sobbed into her pillow until darkness claimed her.

**I don't know when I'll be able to update... probably sometime before Tuesday. Review? **


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 is up! **

**Disclaimer – I still don't own Titanic or anything from it and also don't own these lyrics; they belong to the fabulous Tracy Chapman :D**

**Enjoy!**

_Together again  
It would feel so good to be  
In your arms  
Where all my journeys end  
If you can make a promise If it's one that you can keep, I vow to come for you  
If you wait for me and say you'll hold  
A place for me in your heart._

* * *

_At first, there had been screams. Heart wrenching sobs of the un-dead as they shouted for mercy. He lay beside his Rose, who was still and lifeless. Before he could reach to her, she was lifted from him and carried away beyond his view. He tried to stand but it was no use, he was suddenly pinned down to the debris on his back, with his arms above his head, tied to each other._

_The screams had turned to laughter, loud, hysterical and the faces swam before him as frigid blue corpses rose from the waters and grabbed at his hair and clothes. He struggled against the tight grip on the chains that bound his arms together. His breathing quickened and his breath became torn and desperate as invisible daggers stabbed at his flesh. He let out a cry,_

_And then, Rose._

_She floated up from the water after the other dead, but unlike them she was beautiful and fresh faced like when he had first seen her; a goddess. She looked at him, her warm eyes betrayed and haunted as though she had seen all the bad and horror in the world swim before her eyes and become her existence. She reached for him and he felt his own arms extend to a point that he was almost free and almost fell from the safety of the debris. And then she was falling into the deep, and with a scream she was pulled down by faces that saw without seeing. She reached for him and he struggled to free himself, desperation and frustration coursing through his veins. He heard a laugh and felt his wrists unbind and he sat up suddenly, reaching desperately for Rose, who was disappearing into the sea. Every time he got close, she was pulled deeper._

_Then she was gone, leaving him only with the view of her eyes staring at him, piercing his very soul with her betrayed expression and soft tears._

"No, Rose!" Jack screamed, thrashing about in his temporary bed, arms flaying.

He was vaguely aware of someone shaking him out of his torment and yet he clung to it like a lifeline. At least in his mind, Rose was still with him.

"Jack! Jack, wake up! It's a dream, ok? Only a dream." The voice soothed Jack and he sat up and wrapped his arms around his head, shielding his eyes from the voice. He wouldn't let him see him crying.

"Yeah. I know," He felt a firm hand on his shoulder, and felt the cold sweat on his skin soak into his shirt. Shaking his head a little, he stretched his arms out in front of him, hoping his pale complexion and red eyes weren't clearly noticeable.

They were, and Oliver noticed immediately.

He sat down next to his friend and put an arm round his shoulders. He struggled to ignore the fact that Jack was violently shaking and breathing heavily, as though he had just been suffocated.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly, knowing clearly that something wasn't right with him, and hadn't been since he suddenly returned to Chippewa Falls two months ago after being away for five years. The Calverts, having been long time family friends of the Dawsons, gave Jack a place to stay until he decided whether to move on or not. After only a few weeks, he decided to stay in Chippewa Falls claiming that 'he had seen enough of the World and did not want to venture out again'. Which everyone that had know him found extremely strange, as Jack had always been adventurous but now seemed only a shell of his former self.

During the days, he had committed himself to repairing and fixing up his family's old farmhouse, which had been badly damaged in the fire that killed his parents five years ago. Other than that he only ate (only when Oliver or his mother, Lydia, made him, otherwise he wouldn't have bothered), slept and went walking, for hours at a time without any mention of where he was going or when he would return.

He didn't draw anymore.

"No, not yet. I'm fine," Jack replied, trying to give Oliver a reassuring look. He hated lying to his best friend, but the pain was raw, and he supposed it always would be. It was not the first time that Oliver had come into his room first thing, having been woken by his screams, to see him thrashing around in a cold sweat.

He was getting used to the concerned looks from the people he once knew, which had angered him at first, but he just ignored them. And, after time he had learnt to alienate himself from others all together, which most people had accepted, except from the Calverts, who refused to let Jack become a social outcast. But they didn't understand really.

The days were torture. The nights were hell.

"Well, okay." He stood to leave, knowing that Jack didn't like sympathy from people, but turned around just before he got to the door. "Why don't you come to church today? I know you're not really religious, but it'll be a good chance to socialize. And, there's this new girl in town that arrived last week, and I want you to meet her. She seems just... amazing, Jack. I'm thinking of asking her out to dinner or something, not straight away though, don't want to scare her or anything!" Jack saw the wistful look in his friend's eyes and he felt happy that he had found someone special. He knew that look all too well; it was the same look he got when he thought about Rose. But he felt ashamed at the jealousy he felt towards him, too. _He _had someone special, someone that now only existed only in his mind.

"You do that, Ollie." He smiled at him, before rubbing his eyes, attempting to clear the stinging feeling he felt.

"Yeah, I just might. So you'll come today then?" he sounded hopeful, and Jack felt even guiltier for saying no. "I really can't, I haven't got the time; I should take advantage of the good weather and put those beams up that I've been wanting to do all week."

"But it's Sunday, Jack. You've been working all week on the barn, surely you can't just take an hour or so off?" he was practically pleading now, determined to get Jack away from his work and introduce him to new people and back into the life he had once had. He wanted desperatly to know what had made him so... haunted, but he trusted that he would tell him in his own time.

"No Ollie, but you go have a good time. And maybe I'll come next Sunday" he replied, knowing full well that he wouldn't go next week, and that he wouldn't be putting any beams up today; he didn't even have the wood yet. He couldn't decide quite why he was against simply going to church; he just didn't want to be around people.

"Ok, I'll leave you too it then." He left, leaving Jack sat up in his bed, dry eyed and burning.

After a few minutes of attempting to clear his head, Jack stood up and changed into his work clothes; dirty trousers and shirt. He heard the front door shut and saw through his window, Ollie on his bike cycling down the lane, bag on shoulder. He smiled slightly, knowing that church didn't start for another two hours and that he was almost certainly going to meet this new girl he had been talking about.

Pushing the feeling of sorrow to the back of his mind, he slipped on his shoes and headed out, walking straight past his family's farmhouse, and out towards Lake Wissota, leaving nothing but a faint trail of foot steps behind him.

**Sorry for the shortness of this one, but if I'd have carried it on it would have been ridiculously long. Also, there won't be an update until the 22****nd****, or there about as I'll be away. **

**Also, I can't decide whether to make this a happy ending, a Jack/Rose ending or a Rose/Calvert ending... I'd love to hear what you guys think, so let me know!**

**Review, and maybe an update can come sooner ;)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 is up! (Eventually!)**

**Disclaimer is on Chapter 1 :)**

****_3rd July, 1912_

When Rose awoke that morning, she was surprised to find waiting for her in the kitchen, (along with a full cooked breakfast) Oliver, who was sat listening to Dorothy as she engaged in a one sided conversation, whilst sweeping the floor with much enthusiasm. He made her smile when he attempted to get a word in, and then, defeated, sat back in his chair daintily sipping his tea.

"Good morning," she smiled and sat opposite Oliver who returned her smile and Rose felt her face flush slightly. "Dorothy, I wish hadn't gone through so much trouble." She indicated at the large amount of food she had been served, but Dorothy waved her hand at her, "It was no problem, dear. It's what I do best, cooking." She went on to talk about how lovely the weather was looking and didn't notice when Oliver and Rose phased out into their own conversation at the table.

"So, how did you sleep, Rose?" he asked her, before taking another sip of his tea. "Very well, thank you." She lied, as she not slept well at all. She was kept on waking up in the night due to dreams that kept her awake for sometime afterwards. He nodded, noticing that she looked tired but didn't pry. "Good," he smiled and Rose felt guilty for lying to him. There was something about this man that made her want to open up and spill her heart out to him, but knew that she wasn't ready to talk yet.

"Will you come to church, Rose?" he asked, changing the subject. "That is, if you want too, of course. Don't feel like you have to or anything, I mean if you're not religious, it's fine, I-" he started stuttering on and Rose giggled at how nervous he seemed.

"I'd almost forgotten it was Sunday. Yes, of course I'll come; the church looks lovely on the outside, very beautiful."

"It's beautiful on the inside too. I helped rebuild the roof as well, a few years back, when a particularly nasty storm destroyed it. Do you remember it, Dorothy?" The elderly woman nodded furiously, "How could I forget that one? Awful! I remember because it was the autumn that Judith and I-" Oliver rolled his eyes as he watched the landlady making large hand gestures and swinging her broom around dramatically, talking to no-one in particular.

"I remember it well; the old guys couldn't be bothered to fix it so offered me and some friends ten dollars each to do it. No experience, nothing! But we did a damn good job on it, I'll show you! I'll bet you can't even tell where it broke!"

She smiled at his enthusiasm and saw how proud he was of his achievement. She was shocked by how easily she forgot her troubles when she was speaking to this man, and how his voice calmed her. It confused and scared her, too.

Oliver was right, the church _was _indeed truly beautiful, as beautiful, in fact, than any she had ever seen. It was over four hundred years old, with stain glass windows that could rival any and a polished marble chapel that the Priest stood beside.

The church was by no means a large one, not by any standard, but by the amount of people it crammed in, she assumed that most of the townspeople had turned up to the weekly service. There were no more than two hundred people jammed into the small church, and Rose was later informed that only about a quarter of the population of Chippewa Falls had shown up. She was shocked by how many people there were; she had never seen more than thirty at a time before.

Oliver had steered her into the church almost as soon as they got there, (after their enjoyable walk from the guest house) knowing well how much the townspeople would enjoy something new to gossip about. They had arrived almost as the first ones but as they were walking into the church, they were joined by another woman, one of around the same age as Rose.

"Winnie! I was wondering if you were coming today," Rose stepped back as Oliver embraced the shorter girl, and took the opportunity to observe the animated individual before her, who was making her feel only slightly jealous at her actions.

Rose had never seen a person with darker skin before, and was almost taken aback. Her dark eyes shined but Rose caught a glimmer of something behind the optimistic exterior, and she assumed this woman was no stranger to horrific occurrences. She was also much shorter than Rose, at least three inches, making her seem younger than she was. And she held Oliver tightly, laughing and patting his back like an old friend. That was some comfort; like friends.

She released Oliver and turned to Rose, her eyes turning cold as she eyed her warily, looking her up and down whilst observing the close proximity between her and Oliver.

"Oh, Rose, this is Winnie Chapman. A good friend of mine." He spoke hesitantly and Winnie stuck her hand out to Rose, whilst keeping firm eye contact. She looked at her as though this simple gesture was a test and out of the corner of her eye, Rose saw Oliver waiting, a look of anticipation on his face. The way Winnie stood, firm but somewhat nervous made it clear to Rose that she was no stranger to racial discrimination; it was almost as though she was expecting to be shunned away.

Confidently, she took her hand in her own and shook it vigorously, the contrast between the colour of their skin felt was almost like a comfort for reasons she couldn't explain. At once Winnie's eyes softened and she laughed again and beamed a wide toothy smile and she looked at once happy and relaxed.

"It's a pleasure." Rose smiled, hoping she hadn't sounded too posh, but introductions had become rehearsed over the years.

"Same here!" She realised Rose's hand and placed it around her shoulders, "Any friend of Ollie's is a friend of mine."

Oliver snickered as the three of them walked into the church.

"We shall now sing hymn number seventy-three; _Near my God to thee_"

The people around Rose started to sing, slowly and mournfully and Rose felt sick at the familiar tune. It was different from when she last heard it; a piano instead of the string instruments that haunt her dreams. Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes burnt and her ears, the sound, was excruciating. Clamping her hand firmly over her mouth, she pushed past Oliver who was stood next to her, on the end of the aisle, and ran straight out of the door choking back muffled sobs as she went.

She didn't stop at the door, she continued to run, far and further away from the sound, but it wouldn't leave, the images wouldn't leave.

_She could only feel the comforting feeling of Jack's hand clasped on hers as he pulls her out of Palm Court. To Rose's horror, they were greeted with a dense crowd, and she felt sick, but Jack kept pulling Rose through the mass of screaming people. She can only numbly feel Jack tightening her lifebelt around her as they push their way to the rail. _

_Her breath hitched in her throat at what she saw; the bridge was completely under water and on the deck, people were screaming, adding to the utter chaos. Suddenly, people stream around them in fear, claustrophobically._

"_Come on, we have to keep moving, stay on the ship as long as possible." Jack grasps her hand again and she pushes beside him as they join the shoving people trying to get down the narrow stairs to the wall deck. _

_Then, the pushing and the screaming and the chaos stopped, and Rose felt as though she was being lifted. The tune, she knew that tune._

_The dull, mournful cries of the instruments burned her ears as she took in her surroundings. It was chaos, utter chaos. There were hundreds of people on the wall deck, all pushing and shoving their way up to the bow of the ship. Rose realised then that this is what it would take to break the social class boundaries. She saw a first class man helping a woman in rags with a young dirty faced child, trying to lift them both up and over the wall beside the crowded stairway. _

_They would all die here, anyway._

_Including her, including Jack. She pushed then, new adrenaline pumping through her veins and the pair continued to make their way up, together. _

_Dimly in the distance, beyond the frigid lifeboats, she could the outline of a ship, or was it a dream? She imagined her mother, sitting smugly, safely, proudly as though she ruled all in her tiny lifeboat, rocking against the waves. At least she had to witness her daughter's death._

_She felt the ship lurch and begin to sink, then. Time, she figured, time was what she needed._

_And so she waited, hearing only the torturous music mixed with the ragged breath of the man behind her, holding her safely against the rail, shielding her from harm._

She came to a stop and fell, exhausted under the shade of a large tree, breathing shaky, uneven breaths, tears streaming down her face and burning her cheeks.

She heard frantic footsteps coming from behind her, and she tried to regain control of her emotions. She felt arms enclose around her and felt herself being rocked. Oliver's grip was firm, but gentle and he shushed her like she were a child and the comfort it gave her was enough to calm her.

**So sorry that it took me so long to update! Review?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys, I'm sorry for how long it's been!**

**Life got in the way of me hurrying this story along. Coursework, exams, revision and so on. But I'll try and update sooner from now on because I've got a more or less clear view of where I went this story to go...**

**Disclaimer – I don't own Titanic or any of its characters. If I did I wouldn't be writing this because Jack wouldn't have died.**

_7th July 1912_**  
**

"Jack, I thought you did the other day?" Oliver shouted from the entrance up to his friend, who was balancing from a secure beam at the top of his parent's old barn whilst furiously hammering in another.

Jack removed the nails from his mouth, "Ugh, yeah. I never really got around to it... so I'm doin' it now."

"I'm coming up!" Oliver shouted, receiving only a slight grunt in response from Jack, which had only a tinge of protest. _He really doesn't give up, does he?_

Oliver emerged a minute later and walked toward Jack, looking extremely uncomfortable; heights had never really been one of his strong points.

He sat beside him and for a few minutes the pair sat in silence, the only sound metal hitting metal. The barn had been spectacular in its day, a red gem amongst the green and white landscape. It lay just outside town so unless you knew it was there, it was difficult to find. Jack had never appreciated the isolation in his childhood; the endless walk into town, how it caught the icy draft of Lake Wissota in the winter, how he was _always_ late for school. But now, he was thankful that no one came around, that it was so close to Lake Wissota, where he spent most afternoons walking and thinking. He didn't have to see anyone, and he appreciated it.

He knew the people talked. Hell! He had travelled the World for Christ's sake! Did they think he was stupid! It annoyed him, of course, but he couldn't find the will to confront anyone or make an effort to look like his 'old self'. He died. He died along with his Rose.

Oliver was trying, Jack knew that. But they had both come a long way since being best friends when they were fifteen years old. He was a wreck and didn't deserve Oliver's kindness and friendship or his family's hospitality.

"Look, Ollie, I appreciate that you came out to see me and everything, but I really wanna be alone right now."

"I know that, Jack. That's why I came; if I never did, you'd never come out." Jack stopped hammering momentarily about to protest, but seeing that it was a valid point, he picked up another nail.

"Doesn't that tell you something?" he hammered the nail into the wood, harder than necessary. It broke in the wood.

"Not really. We're all worried about you, Jack."

Jack pulled the broken nail out of the beam and cursed as it cut skin on his hand.

"Well you don't need to be; I'm fine." He stretched out each word longer than necessary before quickly adding that he was fine. He doubted Oliver would believe that, but he hoped he would respect his privacy.

He didn't.

"Horseshit!" Oliver shouted, his jaw clenched. Why the hell was Jack acting like this?

"And who are you to tell me how I feel?" Jack leapt to his feet and threw the hammer he had been holding onto the floor below them. He felt the anger pulsing through his veins. All of the buried emotions were surfacing, all the hate, anger and frustration, and it felt good. He didn't care who received this hurt, but he felt as though he were about to erupt and he didn't hold back.

"I'm your friend!"

"Leave. Me. Alone!" He didn't think he had shouted so loud or so venomously in his life, but Oliver wasn't backing down.

"You're gonna die like this, Jack!" He reached toward him, pleading with him.

"It's not up to you to save me!"

The words echoed around the space and the dawning came upon him as he registered the words slowly through his mind. A goddess existed there, her blazing curls igniting the flame in his heart, her beautiful face shone in his mind's eye and without noticing Oliver's response, he crashed to his knees.

How had he known? How had he found the one spot of warmth among the icy tavern of his broken heart? Why, why bring _her _into this?

He was on his hands and knees, weeping, _howling,_ the anger gone replaced again with torturous mourning. The blood from his hand gushed out onto the beam and stained it a dark red as it pooled around his hand. Oliver fell beside him and pulled him against his body, enveloping him, holding him while he cried.

An eternity later, Jack rose, ashamed and faced the wall.

Oliver's voice was soft and Jack wanted to talk, to tell him._ Titanic_, Rose... how he had lost everything. "Talk to me, Jack."

"You wanna know?" His mouth was dry and voice hoarse. Maybe it was time to talk.

"I want to help you." Jack nodded, and he sat leaning with his back against the wall, and held him arms protectively around himself. Taking a shallow breath, he watched as Oliver sat opposite him, hunched forward with interest.

He looked Oliver directly in the eye before speaking. "Ever heard of _Titanic_?"

"Of course; I thou-... oh, shit."

**Sorry that this is so short but the next one will be longer, I swear! Review?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 is up! Thanks to everyone that has reviewed so far; this one's for you! I'm going away for a couple of weeks so expect an update soon after that, so until then read and review!**

**Disclaimer - I own nothing to do with Titanic or the charaters. **

* * *

Oliver didn't know what to think.

Jack had told him everything that had happened to him over the five years he had been gone. When he finished his story, the pair had sat silently for a few minutes. A story that complex took some digesting and Oliver was only just beginning to get his head around it.

"Titanic _was being called the ship of dreams, and it was. But how quickly that dream turned into a nightmare tore my life apart."_

_Oliver set his eyes firmly on the dry blood at his feet and didn't look up when Jack said his concluding sentence. He had just opened his heart to him, and he was sat gormless, not knowing what to say. What can you say?_

"_Rose's funeral was last month, according to the paper from Philly. I'd been checking in case there was any sign to say she'd survived. Anything... but nothing until that. Her body's at the bottom of the Atlantic now. I couldn't save her, not when it actually mattered." _

He couldn't believe Jack's story at first, but all he had to do was look at him, his tired eyes, and his frail body, to know that every word was true. When Chippewa Falls had heard about the sinking of the _Titanic, _a prayer had been said in church. And that was the end of it; people got on with their lives, _Titanic _just another tragedy to be pondered on by modern ship builders everywhere. Nothing more. How can one mourn something they don't understand?

But now it hit close to home, and it hit hard.

Five days. The story could have almost been a Nickelodeon, if it weren't so damn unbelievable. Five days isn't a long time, but Jack had been able to recall every minute, every thought, and so his story took up the majority of the day, meaning Oliver hadn't been able to see Rose as he had wanted to.

What was this feeling in his stomach he got every time he thought of her? Why did his palms sweat and his pulse race? He doubted it was love, so soon after meeting her. How long had it been, two weeks? But then again, he had never met anyone like her before. She was beautiful and clearly upper-class, but for whatever reason, she was in a sleepy town in Wisconsin looking forward to meeting him.

He hadn't seen Rose all day, not since he had taken her back to Dorothy's guest house after church yesterday. The outburst had been sudden and he didn't know what had bought it on, but didn't ask twice to respect her privacy. He had been round in the evening to see whether she wanted to take a walk along Lake Wissota and meet Jack, but she had said she was too tired and was going to relax in the bath. Perhaps another time.

Now, as he cycled back from Jack's under the softness of the sun low in the sky he couldn't help but wonder whether he had done something to upset her. He had held her when she cried, but it wasn't meant to upset her, just comfort her.

He just wanted to comfort her and ignite her emerald eyes that looked like they were longing to shine. He wanted to make them.

He cycled past the town hall, where Amelia Cross and her mother were stood outside looking annoyed, as usual. He offered them a wary smile and small wave of which they reluctantly returned.

Amelia Cross had been... close to Jack before he left five years ago, and had never really got over his sudden departure. Oliver could almost pity her, if she wasn't so malicious; she had treated Jack badly and hated when he went out to see Winnie or any of his other friends. But she had liked him, none the less. And Oliver knew that she had been devastated at the unwelcome change to Jack when he returned to Chippewa Falls over two months ago. But it seems to Oliver like he had cracked the shell of grief so it wouldn't be long before they had the old Jack back. He looked forward to it.

He continued down the street and passed the guesthouse. Rose would surely be in there... he glanced down at his watch. Six thirty. It was a good job that he had had the day off work, or else he'd have been in trouble. He had been at Jack's since ten and it would soon be time for supper.

_I wonder whether Rose has eaten..._

He had tried to persuade Jack to come for supper at his house, but he had refused. So there would be some food going spare, and Oliver had been looking for an excuse to see Rose again, praying that she wasn't angry at him.

Strange, how Rose Darcy sounded so similar to the Rose Jack had spoken about. Uncanny, even. Oliver thought about her auburn hair, how it fell against the soft curve of her face and he felt his knees weaken and an odd tingling erupted in the pit of his stomach.

Before he could think against it, he turned into the path of the guest house and got off his bike, leaving it leant against the fence.

* * *

Rose had had a particularly dull day. A small town, she now realised, was not the most entertaining of places when one had no idea where they really were.

She sighed as she looked at herself in the small mirror in her room. She looked worn and tired, with redness tinged around the green of her eyes and the weight of her eyelids almost visible. It was when she was alone that she allowed herself to cry. Silently; the walls had ears.

She hadn't perked up since yesterday's outbreak of emotion and she could think of nothing she wanted to do less than go outside and face the townspeople she had humiliated herself in front of.

Most of all she felt confused. Why had Oliver's arms felt so familiar to her, felt so similar to Jack? It was a comfort she had longed for, since the last time Jack's arms enclosed around her before they took the final plunge into the Atlantic.

She involuntarily shivered.

"Rose!" Dorothy's melodic voice rang out, clear as day, beckoning her onto the landing outside her room.

"Yes, Dorothy?" Rose cursed just how polite she sounded, it sounded as though she were speaking to a stranger rather than friend.

"Company!" Her voice faded out as she danced into the kitchen and out of view.

And then she saw him.

Oliver was stood beside the front door, beaming as she graced the stairs. His fringe had been pulled back by the wind and his cheeks slightly pink, presumably for the same reason.

"Hey, Rose, I was wondering whether you'd like to join me and my family for dinner? Nowhere fancy or anything, just down the street, but if you've already eaten, that's fine! I know Dorot-" _Damn. Rambling again._

Rose smiled and accepted, "I'd love to, just give me a minute to change." She ascended back up the stairs and Oliver couldn't help but watch the way her hips swayed slightly as she walked. Could she possibly be an angel sent to him by God?

"Take as long as you need." He uttered, but she had already disappeared back into her room. He let out an uneven breath and cleared his throat.

"Aah!" He jumped as Dorothy appeared from the corner of his eye and, clutching his chest, he gave a nervous laugh.

"You kinda scared me there, Dorothy!" the older woman remained uncharacteristically silent before speaking in a low, warning tone.

"Be careful with her, Mr Calvert. She thinks I can't hear her but I can and I've never heard cries like it. Something's happened to her. Trust me. It's tragic really. Truly tragic. But that's life I suppose, oh! And wouldn't I know- "she continued on in her usually babble, but her words of sense were left dancing on Oliver's mind.

_Something's happened to her. Tragic,_

That foreboding feeling returned in his gut, and he didn't want to entertain the thought that she couldn't be his. But did she not have the same haunted look in her eyes as Jack? And how uncanny the description of his Rose Dewitt Something? No, it couldn't be; that wouldn't be fair.

Before he could allow himself to get too occupied with the idea, Rose was ready to go and Dorothy was handing her the key to get in, "In case I fall asleep!" Due to lack of concentration, the keys slipped between Rose's fingers, and both she and Oliver reached down to pick them up from the floor.

Electricity shot up through their fingers and caused a chain reaction of fireworks up through their arms. They made eye contact and held it for a moment, before Rose awkwardly looked away, cheeks burning.

_Forgotten Jack already?_

Oliver cleared his throat and offered Rose his arm, which she accepted after only a second's hesitation.

"Shall we?"

No, she couldn't be Jack's Rose...

Could she?

* * *

Oliver's house was full of life when he and Rose arrived, after a more than pleasant five minute stroll. It had been Oliver's mother, Lydia that greeted them.

"Oliver, and oh! You must be Rose, come in, come in!" she ushered the pair through the door and into the hall.

Lydia immediately reminded Rose of Molly Brown, the same mannerisms, the same loving face and bubbly personality. Of course, Lydia didn't share Molly Brown's famous Denver accent, and instead she spoke with a traditional Great Lakes accent, one that Rose had become used to in the month she had been in Chippewa Falls.

Subtly looking Rose up and down, Lydia smiled and told the young couple to sit in the living room until dinner was ready, in about fifteen minutes.

Obediently, the pair sat down together on a two person suite in the living room which adjoined the dining room, where Rose could see five set places around the table.

The living room was a large, warm room drenched in the light that poured in from the huge window alongside the occupied couch. On the mantelpiece were three identically sized photographs, all containing different people with the same big smiles and kind faces.

"Can I get you anything, Rose?" Oliver asked politely, suddenly very aware that his mother was most likely listening in, trying to get as much information as possible on his new love interest.

"No, thank you... but tell me, are you in any of those photographs?" she hesitated, hoping she wasn't being to forward, but Oliver smiled and indicated for her to get up with him before walking over to the mantelpiece.

"This one's my brother, Henry, at what appears to be the old school house- I'd say he's about fourteen in his picture, so maybe ten years ago? He lives in New York now, and works at some newspaper company." Oliver picked up the picture and Rose noticed an ache in his eyes as he looked at the beaming grey and silver figure.

"You must miss him." She placed a hand on his shoulder in comfort and he nodded.

"Very much so, I always wanted to go with him and see the World, but I missed my chances." He placed the picture back onto the mantelpiece carefully.

"They'll be others."

"I hope so." He allowed himself to think back to Jack and how he had headed off to see the World. Why hadn't he gone with him then? He had been to Italy and France and yet Oliver hadn't set foot beyond Wisconsin.

"This next one's my Ma and Pa, taken on their wedding day thirty years ago, so the qualities a bit off," the next picture was slightly darker than the first and it was hard to make out the faces of the individuals within it. There were eight people, with the bride and groom in the centre accompanied by two elderly couples and another young couple. Everyone was grinning happily, which was odd for a photograph taken in the 80s where everyone had to stay still for a number of minutes before the picture was taken, thought Rose, it must have been an extremely happy occasion for the laughter to have stayed alive. She had seen pictures of her own parent's wedding; it looked like a cold and fake occasion.

She listened quietly as Oliver traced each person's face with his finger, "These were my grandparents," he pointed to the sets of elderly couples who were stood very close together and by what she could make out, Rose saw that they too had big smiles on their faces.

"And these were my parent's best friends, the best man and maid of honour," the last couple in the picture were stood beside the bride and groom but it was clear, even with the bad quality of the old photograph that they were looking straight at each other. "John and Marianne Dawson."

Rose was glad that Oliver was fixed on the picture, for he didn't see the way her mouth dropped with a silent gasp, or the way she tensed up in surprise. _His parents..._

And how clear it was, Jack's father looked almost identical to him but a dark speck hovered over his mother, making it difficult to see anything other than her eyes.

Strange, how both Rose and Oliver shared the same mournful look when they gazed into the picture.

"They were lovely people." Oliver smiled slightly and put the picture back down.

"Were?" Rose found her voice, unable to take her eyes off the smiling figure of Jack's father.

"They died. A few years back in a fire, it broke the town's heart for a time. And Jack never really got over it," Rose's eyes darted up to his and was surprised to see that he was looking down on her curiously.

If she was Jack's Rose, he wasn't about to mention anything.

"He was their son, and my best friend. He stayed for a short while after they died but then upped one morning and left, without a trace. That's him, there," he pointed to last picture, at a figure bent double, his face hidden by his hands.

"We're ten in that picture and my sister's eight, half my lifetime ago," he smiled as he looked at the picture, at Jack leaning against the wall for support during his bent double state. Oliver and Frances were beside him, Oliver leaning against Jack for support and Frances looking on with a small, uncertain smile on her face.

"I remember this, we were in absolute hysterics after my Pa tried to make pancakes, something so simple was absolutely hilarious." He smiled at the memory, "It took him weeks to clean the mixture off the ceiling. Ma was fuming."

He went on to talk about his sister, who was upstairs somewhere, but Rose listened with only half her concentration. She was still fixed upon the figure of the young boy leant against the wall, and she felt a sinking feeling as she stared at his hands, desperately trying to picture the face beyond them.

"Dinner, kids!"

"And so I said, mate, Eau Claire is that way... and he just walked off!" there was an uproar of laughter at the table followed by a brief second of everyone trying to catch their breath.

Rose couldn't remember the last time she had laughed, properly laughed, and it felt exhilarating. Looking around the table she could see Oliver's family, now calmer, casting the occasional friendly glance her direction.

In the silence that followed the laughter, in which no one knew what to say, Rose reflected the third class party she had been to with Jack. The dancing, the beer, the music, the ecstasy, the laughter.

_That _was the last time she laughed.

Oliver's father, Ian, cleared his throat. "So tell me, Rose, what do you think of our sleepy little town? Not much to compare with... Philadelphia, did you say?"

"Yes, well, the two are defiantly different, but I have to say I think I prefer it here. Philadelphia's a cold place packed to the brim with unfriendly people. I never cared too much for big cities." Rose cleared the last crumb from her plate before politely placing her knife and fork over it.

"No, me neither. Famous for all the wrong reasons, if you ask me." There was a nod of agreement from around the table, all except Oliver's younger sister, Frances, who just looked at her father with a bemused look on her face.

"But, Pa, you've only ever been to Boston, perhaps other cities are different?" her sapphire blue eyes, the same pair that belonged to the men at the table, twinkled with mischief.

"Aye, maybe. But I'm not going to be the one to find out. So I sent Henry out for me!" There was a chuckle at the mention of the oldest Calvert son.

Rose observed the scene closely before deciding not to mention her excessive travelling around Europe; that could be a story for another day. If there's one thing she didn't want them to know about her, it would be her spoilt roots, not yet.

After the meal had finished and the light hearted banter died away, Oliver volunteered to walk Rose back to the guest house. When she had thanked Lydia for the meal, she had been shocked to find herself being embraced by the older woman. When had the last time her mother hugged her?

She guessed this was what it was like to have a family.

The two of them walked silently for the first few minutes of their journey, each content with the other's company. At the gate that led into the town centre, Rose suddenly spoke, "your family's lovely," She said in a soft voice tinged with longing and slight jealousy.

"They'll be thrilled to hear that," his smile was the first thing to distract her from the setting sun and she allowed herself to look into his azure eyes a moment longer than necessary. "And your family? They must be pretty great too."

Rose smiled slightly, thinking of her mother's grief stricken face when she had last seen her on the deck of the _Carpathia. _It had almost been enough to make her go back, but her promise to Jack had been fresh and strong in her mind and so she had left her mother to mourn her only daughter, who she believed to be dead.

_I've never had a family, not really._

"How do you figure?"

"To have a daughter as amazing as you, they must be good people." Rose felt an ache in her chest and swallowed the lump in her throat. Her father had been a great man and she missed him with every step she took. The only grief worse than that over her father had been that of when she had lost Jack. And that had been unbearable.

Noticing her sudden sullen change, Oliver looked at Rose intently to see that her eyes had glazed over and he could see the dying ambers of sunset reflected there.

"They were."

"God, Rose. I'm so sorry." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and laced his fingers with her own. The flames of sunset vanished behind the horizon leaving the pair with an odd and unexpected feeling of contentment.

**Review?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys, sorry about the ridiculous time it took to update. I'm bang slap in the middle of my exams at the moment but I've been writing this chapter on and off for weeks. **

**I think there's only going to be two or three more chapters and I know exactly how I'm going to end this story. I think I must be the most excited person, and I know what's going to happen! xD**

**Read and review!**

* * *

_13th July, 1912_

"So, when can I expect to become an Aunty?" Frances commented slyly, ruffling Oliver's hair as she made her way round the table to sit opposite him; where better to gauge off his reactions?

"Frances! Behave yourself!"

The silence in the kitchen was resumed, to Oliver's satisfaction. Hearing a contented sigh from his mother behind him, he knew that Lydia's defence hadn't been as noble as he first hoped.

"I always enjoyed spring weddings..."

_There is it._

"Ma, please! You're just as bad as she is!" He pointed across the table at his younger sister, who was innocently biting into her bread, trying not to choke as the giggles surfaced.

"Now Oliver, I'm not _that _bad." She smiled fondly at her two youngest children, "I was merely... suggesting; April's sun always compliments a redhead's skin." She sat beside her son and gave him a wink.

Torment, he figured, was her middle name.

"Please, you really don't need to plan a wedding." He frowned, thinking back to the similarities between his Rose and Jack's Rose.

Lydia looked visibly disappointed, but soon shrugged and beamed, "Not yet." She smiled fondly at her son, who looked embarrassingly to his toast. He was not fond of the mornings when his father worked on the carts early; it was so easy for his mother and sister to gang up on him, when he was without male support.

Frances snickered again, before getting up and putting her plate on the side. "I want to be Maid of honour!" she laughed as she danced into the hall and up the stairs.

"That should really be Rose's decision, honey!" Lydia shouted after her. She turned back to her son and upon seeing his sober expression, she knew he was serious.

"Sorry." She put her hands up in mock defence, "Now in all seriousness, I think she's great." She placed her hand over his comfortingly; he had always been shy when it came to talking about girls. He found it easier to offer advice to others and sort out their own problems and dilemmas than his own.

"Thanks. It's nothing though, really."

"I don't believe that. You bought her round to meet _us. _It can't be anything less than serious." She gave a comforting smile.

"Well, we'll see. I don't know what to do." He stood and looked away from his mother. He was now fairly certain that Rose was the same Rose Jack had told him about, but was not sure whether or not to tell him. Or her. Loose Rose, or loose Jack.

"Go with your heart, Son, it's usually right."

Oliver considered the words, the mysterious look in his mother's eyes and then his own feelings.

"Anyway, I'm off or I'll be late for work. See ya Ma."

"Bye honey."

* * *

"So, you're telling me that Jack's Rose is Rose and Rose's 'friend' is Jack..?" Winnie counted her fingers as she recited each name, considering the possibility of this theory.

Oliver groaned slightly and gave a small, disappointed nod; saying it aloud had confirmed his hideous suspicion and had hurt like Hell. His hands wrapped around his head and he leant his head down against the table the pair was sat at.

Winnie pulled a face, "That's ridiculous!"

Oliver gave a sigh of relief, releasing the breath he hadn't known he was holding, "You think?" His voice was hopeful and he lifted his head from the tabletop, an eager light shining in his eyes.

"Of course. Firstly, that _coincidence _is so unlikely, nay, impossible! Come on, Jack told us; Rose. Is. Dead. It's sad for him, but if what he's told us is right, (and why would he tell us if it wasn't?), it's true." Explained Winnie, going crazy with hand gestures, but somehow managed to keep her voice hushed; walls had ears and in a town this small news spread like wildfire. Even in the empty butchers, where they were the only two people, Oliver still felt uneasy about talking about this anywhere other than his home.

"And Rose hasn't even mentioned a Jack, just a friend that she knew. It could be anyone."

"Really though? It's hardly a big town and only maybe ten people have left in the last ten years. It just doesn't seem like coincidence."

"You're just being hard on yourself; you like Rose and you're making excuses not to go for it. She likes you too, I can tell."

Shaking his head, he leaned towards her, "I heard her crying his name," at Winnie's raised eyebrow he continued, "Remember the church?"

"Of course..."

"Well, as she cried I heard her saying his name over and over, quietly, but I heard it." Winnie leant in, in interest.

"Hmm, you could have imagined it. If you're thinking that way so much, you may think you heard it to confirm your suspicions." She mused, looking him in the eye, revealing that she really didn't believe they were the same person.

"Maybe. But I spoke to Clarence yesterday."

"So? I speak to him most days..."

"But he told me that Rose said her friend had died. She must think Jack's dead, like Jack thinks she is."

"Oliver, listen to me. Rose is dead. If you don't believe me then, well, the only thing to do then is ask her straight out; 'Rose! Jack Dawson, yes or no?' and see what she says."

"I don't think I want too..." He sighed and leant back in his chair.

"Then don't. All she'd do is look at you like you'd grown a second head or something." She sipped the last of her coffee and set the mug down on the table.

"You're probably right. What are the odds it's the same person?"

"Exactly. Anyway, enough chit-chat; I think you've got a customer." She indicated to the elderly woman that was walking up to the door.

Winnie stood up and held the door open for the woman before turning to Oliver, who was now stood back behind the counter, and gave him a smile. Oliver understood, and looked at the clock. Three twenty. Two hours until he could see Rose.

* * *

"Evening Dorothy, is Rose ready?" Oliver stood in the doorway of the guest house, shuffling from foot to foot like a nervous eleven-year-old.

"I think so, my! Don't you look dashing!" She gushed, stepping aside to allow him in.

Was it that obvious he'd made such an effort? Before he had time to worry or get embarrassed, the unmistakable sound of a door opening was heard from upstairs.

His breath caught in his throat as she descended the stairs; face lighting up when she saw him. How could she keep on getting more beautiful?

"I thought I heard you." She hesitated on the last step, almost unwilling to break the moment. Oliver gazed at her and cursed at how he felt stuck for words when he saw her. She hadn't made as much effort as he, who had trimmed the excess wisps of hair from his fringe, shaved especially and had even used some of his Father's cologne (_only _for special occasions!). But then she didn't need too; she looked amazing in her azure summer dress and with her curls completely free and energetic, framing her face.

"You look beautiful," He smiled, offering her his arm. "Shall we?"

They walked out to Lake Wissota (the long way; Oliver was not ready to risk revealing the farmhouse to Rose, just in case.)

He was going to tell her. How could he live with himself knowing he was the reason that Jack and Rose were separated? He loved Rose... that much he was sure of, but it wasn't fair. It never was. He would sit her down on a bench overlooking the Great Lake and he'd just tell her; 'Rose, Jack Dawson's alive. He lives right over there.' Or something like that.

He was too nervous to strike up a proper conversation and was glad when Rose did.

"The lakes are beautiful."

"Yes, I used to come up here every day when I was a kid, mind your arm there," he hit the offending branch out of her path, "It's just this way."

He led her further down the path, towards what had been his and Jack's 'spot' when they were kids, when they used to go ice fishing in the winter.

The path branched off and Oliver led Rose down a winding trail, surrounded by trees and shrubs, away from the main path.

"Here we are." They came out at an opening, slightly higher than they had been before, and the view of the lake was spectacular; they could see the beauty and sheer size of what could be mistaken for a very large pond.

"Oh, Oliver. It's like the sea..." Rose looked over at the view, and suddenly felt overwhelmed at how content she felt. Right there in that precise moment in time.

"Gorgeous isn't it? We always used to come here and right over there; that was the best position for ice fishing."

"It's truly spectacular." They stood for a moment more, appreciating the view and enjoying each other's company. Oliver could feel the softness of her hand brushing against his own and her sigh sounded as subtle and welcome as the wind.

"Come, sit down," Oliver beckoned Rose over to the bench behind them. When he had last visited, over a year ago, the bench had been weak and sitting on it was your own risk. It had been a meal for wood worms, a reminder of his broken friendship since his friend had left town. But this bench looked new; the weak beams of wood had been replaced and the sat sturdy in its old place, surrounded by the pinks and oranges of the wildflowers that grew around it.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments as Oliver tried to gain the courage to ask her about Jack, his internal battle still raging in his head.

_God, she's beautiful._

The way the ochre of the sun bought out the red strands in her auburn hair made him tremble and the soft pinkness of her cheeks made her look as elegant as any princess he had read about in books or any fleeting crush he'd had in the past. She was smiling, showing her teeth and her face seemed to radiate beauty. It was infectious, and he felt himself smiling too.

He had made her smile, feel happy... when had Jack done that for her? He had only ever made her cry, while _he _had been the one to comfort her.

_He _deserved this.

"Rose... I need to tell you something. Ever since you arrived here, I knew you were... special. I mean, this is hard to say... you're intelligent and beautiful. You could light up a room with your smile. I didn't think it was possible to feel this strongly for a person I've only know for a month, but I do. I guess what I'm trying to say is, well," he stammered, losing his nerve.

Rose's eyes welled up and she suddenly felt weak. How could her life have changed so dramatically in just a _month_? She swallowed back the lump in her throat; she wasn't ready for this. But she can't hold onto a memory forever_._

_I don't want to be alone anymore. _

"Ssh, Oliver. I think I understand." She closed the distance between them and their lips touched softly and briefly. He couldn't deny the electricity that shot through his body when she touched him.

_I'm sorry, Jack._

* * *

**0-0 I've surprised myself...**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys! Sorry that I haven't updated this in a while, school and life and such. But I've had a few requests for an update so ta-da! Hope you enjoy it :)**

* * *

_15th July, 1912_

Feeling the wind in his hair relaxed him.

Speeding down the dirt lane that led to Jack's farmhouse oh his bike, almost made him feel as though he had no troubles in the world, that he was completely and utterly free.

Then he would turn a corner and the shackles of his betrayal would tighten, forcing him to remember just why he was visiting his friend.

Oliver was wracked with guilt. He had known that Rose belonged to Jack, and he had come so close to telling her that he was alive... then she had kissed him. _Kissed _him.

Jack would be in the barn, where he usually was. The old barn was near completion; Jack had proved quite the carpenter. He had replaced all the old and decayed beams, rebuilt many of the inner structures and the only thing left to do was paint the outside deep crimson.

Leaning his bike against the fence outside Jack's farmhouse, Oliver looked over at Lake Wissota and contemplated suggesting a walk before they started working. The day was beautiful; bright and warm, but without the usual humidity that made summer days often unbearable. He thought back to his walk with Rose last night; the blazes of sunset shining off her hair, face bright and eyes shining. _Finally _shining.

He shook the image of Rose from his mind as a fresh wave of guilt settled itself in his gut.

He made his way up the path to the barn, kicking a small rock towards the doorway. The ancient wooden doors, yet to be replaced, were chained and locked with a single lock.

Raising an eyebrow, Oliver knocked at the barn door and waited a few seconds before concluding that Jack wasn't in there. He turned away from the door, eyes scanning the front garden for any sign that Jack was in at all, and walked towards the farmhouse that stood beside the barn. He traced the familiar route from the barn to the farmhouse; shoving his hands down the pockets of his trousers as he felt them go warm and clammy at the thought of what he was about to do; the joy he would bring and the loss he would inevitably suffer.

To his surprise, the front door to the farmhouse was already open and he stepped cautiously in, adrenaline firing up in his chest. He stood just over the threshold and strained his ears for any sound; Jack would never be so careless to just leave the door wide open and his farm was away from the beaten-track enough for it to be dangerous if help was needed. Oliver looked around the entrance of the farmhouse and noticed all the doors leading off to the kitchen and living area were closed. Suddenly, there was a bang from upstairs and Oliver instinctively jumped before he heard a hushed curse come from the same place.

He ran up the stairs, palms slipping slightly on the banister as dread settled in his chest. Bravery was not something Oliver was known for but if Jack needed him, he owed him at least the help of a friend.

Jack's bedroom was the second door Oliver came to and on seeing that it was wide open, he hesitated before coming into view to whoever was on the other side.

Relief flooded through him when he saw Jack alone in the room, no intruder in sight.

"Hey Jac- Jack, what are you doing?"

Oliver approached his friend, who was on his hands and knees, furiously stuffing shirts into worn, grey sack. He jumped at Oliver's sudden appearance but promptly returned his attention back to the clothes on the floor.

"What does it look like I'm doin'? I'm leaving." He kept his head to the ground and continued throwing shirts into the sack.

"What? But, Jack why?" Oliver walked from the threshold into the room, stepping over a leather-bound sketchbook. He felt confused and somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear victory bells ringing; _if he's out of here, Rose would never know…_

"Look, I appreciate all you've done for me since I got back, but I can't live here again, the last month's proved that." Jack stoop abruptly and Oliver could see his pale complexion and dark rings under his uncharacteristically dull eyes.

"But this is your home," he replied lamely as Jack walked straight past him to get to the wardrobe on the other side of the room. When he flung it open, it was nearly empty.

"Not anymore and if you've got one reason why I should stay, I'd sure like to hear it." He stated into the wardrobe as he pulled out its few contents. Oliver's mouth went dry, as though filled with sand. _I know one reason._

"I... because..." he stammered, conscious caught in a battle between head and heart. He knew what he had to do... so why couldn't he just say it?

_He always got what he wanted. Why can't _I_ have a taste of happiness for once? There's no way he could love Rose any more than I do._

Rose. Perfect, beautiful Rose. What would she think of this?

He pushed the thought quickly from his mind.

"All the work you've put into the house..." he stammered feebly. Jack turned, leaving the wardrobe door open and strode back towards Oliver, though he seemed distracted and intent on packing as quickly as possible, and didn't really stop and acknowledge his presence completely.

"Well, enjoy it. It's yours." He fumbled around his trouser pocket and pulled out a ring of keys, tossing them carelessly into Oliver's hand.

"Wait, what about 'I've seen enough of the world'? You said you didn't want to venture out again!" Jack paused and looked into Ollie's face, and Oliver felt his heart sink at the hopeless look he saw in his eyes.

Oliver felt the guilt again, it was soaring in his chest like a bird taking to flight, and he felt jealousy at the man who looked so broken, for it was he that Rose truly loved. When Jack spoke he was hoarse and quiet and Oliver bit back his tongue so not to spill the truth that enchained him.

"This isn't my home anymore, Ollie. God, I don't have a home at all." Jack swallowed several time as tears were indistinguishable in his eyes. Oliver recoiled at the defeated tone in Jack's voice when he spoke again, "I've only ever felt at home on the road and with-" he took several deep breaths and Oliver opened his mouth to speak.

"She's a-"

"-but that doesn't matter. I'm leaving." As though by the flick of a switch, he went back to rushing around the room, collecting items of clothing from the floor and a small stack of dollar bills from underneath the only pillow on the bed.

Jack hadn't acknowledges him at all. He'd practically told him that Rose was alive, so _that was fine. _

"I'm not gonna stop you." Oliver whispered before repeating it again louder, with more confidence "I'm not gonna stop you."

Missing the guilt underlying the statement, Jack nodded in appreciation and scanned the room for any missed items. Seeing nothing but destruction around the room, he fastened his carry sack with string and made for the door, where Oliver was stood lamely holding keys that burned his hands.

"If you wanna do me a favour though, I could sure use a cart to the station; I'd walk but I wanna be out of here as soon as possible."

"I'll take you myself. We can go the back way to avoid town; if mum sees you she won't let you go." Jack smiled genuinely at Oliver and they made their way out of the house.

They walked down the dirt lane towards town but turned off before reaching the gateway that led into the main area. They walked mainly in silence; Jack because he had nothing more to say, nothing that could offer any explanation or consolation for his leaving and Oliver because he couldn't bear what he was about to let happen.

They reached the station quickly without seeing one person once they got onto the cart, and they walked to the platform still in silence. There were only two other people on the platform and Oliver didn't recognise wither of them.

The train arrived after only a few minutes and before getting on the train, Jack turned to Oliver and offered him his hand.

"Thanks, Ollie… for everything." He accepted the handshake and only nodded, his mouth dry.

Oliver couldn't speak as Jack stepped onto the train and disappeared out of sight. He didn't once look back to Oliver's gladness as he felt that if he looked at Jack's defeated face again, he would run onto the train and drag him off. The whistle sounded from the front carriage and the train began to chug into motion before picking up speed.

Oliver watched the charcoal steam train race out of sight, until only the fragments of black steam remained, leaving him alone on the platform with the weight of his betrayal weighing heavy on his shoulders and leaking out through his eyes.

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**:D**

**I strive off reviews…**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter eight, awoooo! **

**I'd like to thank everyone that's reviewed this story so far; I really appreciate it! 'turtles-rock' raised an issue "It's almost unrealistic that Jack and Rose haven't met yet, since it's a small town and all..." and I understand where you're coming from… and I justify this point with the fact that there are about two thousand people living in Chippewa Falls and that Jack's farm is quite hidden away and since he doesn't leave often, the likeliness of him running into Rose is slim. So, in my story, they haven't. And since Jack's now left… well, you'll have to read and find out! **

**Thanks, and enjoy!**

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"Mmmhmm, just bacon and tomato; you know how I feel about lettuce, Stanley!"

"Only too well, Winnie; I'll never make that mistake again!"

Winnie and the tall, slim waiter shared a chuckle as he collected both her and Rose's menus. Rose watched the exchange and wondered just how everyone in Chippewa Falls seemed to know each other and how they all seemed to have an individual story, or experience or private joke with each individual person. In the month since arriving in the small town, Rose had begun to feel as though she fitted in. People had accepted her as the stranger visiting the birthplace of a late friend; people no longer pried into her business here or raised an eyebrow at her clearly upper-class accent and mannerisms. Every day since she'd arrived she'd felt Jack's presence strongly near her, as though he was showing her around his hometown himself, and Rose felt strangely comforted by the thought.

She'd originally been planning to spend the day alone; perhaps a solitary walk by the lake to clear her head, but when Winnie had arrived at the guest house early to speak with Dorothy about something that escalated into a long debate about knitting patterns, she had agreed to go out to lunch with her. Café Manitoba, Rose discovered, was Winnie's favourite eating place and the pair had walked together from the boarding house, through the town square and down one of the cobbled streets to the small but cosy café. Plain cream tablecloths covered each of the six tables in the café and atop of each were, to Rose's relief, a _single_ pair of cutlery in each designated seat and pair of salt and pepper shakers. Stanley, a tall, slim man that looked around the same age as Oliver and Winnie, was the only member of staff working and since Winnie and Rose were his only customers, he went straight behind the small counter in the back corner of the room to prepare their orders of two sandwiches.

After she'd finished at lunch, she was going to talk to Oliver. She'd been pondering what had happened last night by the lake and how she had allowed it to happen. It had all happened so fast and she'd sworn she'd felt Jack's presence again, urging her on regardless of the fact she knew she wasn't ready for a relationship with another man, wasn't ready to let Jack go.

_I need to explain to him… tell him about Jack._

Maybe he'll understand, but _he doesn't even know Jack's dead._ She had to be the one to tell the man she had grown to care about that his best friend was dead and that she couldn't pursue a relationship with him for the same reason.

Rose was broken out of her trail of thought by the sound of Winnie's voice. "I've been wondering Rose, how long you're staying in Chippewa Falls for? I mean, you've been here a month already, not that I'm trying to persuade you to leave! Not at all, quite the opposite, actually." She laughed characteristically, a throaty chuckle.

"Oh, well I haven't really given it much thought; I like it here and don't feel ready to leave just yet." She replied, truthfully. The time had flown by and she was contemplating asking Winnie about Jack and where his house had been, so she could finish what she had come to Chippewa Falls to accomplish; find peace in her heart.

"Well, if you want, and don't find obliged, you can stay with me for a while. I mean, the boarding house's is great for in the short term but I just thought maybe you'd want somewhere more 'homey' if you were planning to stay for a while."

Rose was touched and for the first time in her life she felt as though she had a genuine friend and the feeling of friendship bought a smile to her face that illuminated all her features.

"Thank you, Winnie, I really don't know what to say."

"It's up to you, take some time to think about it if you nee- Is that Oliver?"

Oliver was rushing down the street and nearly missed when Winnie banged on the glass to gain his attention, before waving excitedly when he peered into the café. His eyes darted to the door and then to the road ahead of him, as though contemplating whether or not to go in and greet his friend and Rose but before he could move, Winnie was dragging Rose up by the arm and opening the door.

"Ollie! What are you doing here? You do know it's half eleven on a Tuesday, right?"

"Yeah, I know. I'm in a bit of a rush, actually." He hurried, practically bouncing on his feet in preparation to run.

"No shit! Why aren't you at work?" Winnie frowned, placing both hands on her hips like a mother that had just caught their child truanting from school.

"Just got caught up… with the carts to the station. Lost track of time… Mr Milligan's gonna kill me!" he stammered, eyes darting straight forward, avoiding both women's eyes.

Winnie studied Oliver's face closely, frowning as she said "Are you alright, Ollie? Your eyes look all red,"

"Hmm? Oh, right. Hay fever must be starting to take its toll, being mid-July and all. Look, I really gotta go, talk later?" Oliver looked away it an attempt to hide his eyes from the women. He had never suffered from hay fever and Winnie knew that, he just hoped she wouldn't bring the issue up in front of Rose.

It was Rose who spoke this time, "Definitely." Oliver locked eyes with her but quickly looked away, feeling tears sting the backs of his eyes as Jack's face flashed before him.

Winnie nodded, concerned at her friend's uncharacteristic nervousness and lack of punctuality, and watched as he practically sprinted down the lane towards the town centre.

"How peculiar." She mused aloud, more to herself than Rose and Rose only nodded in agreement.

"Let's get back to our sandwiches though, otherwise Stanley'll think we've ran off. And, I can tell ya, I'd never hear the end of it!"

* * *

The sharp sound of a bell signalled Rose's otherwise silent entrance into the butchers were Oliver was working. The rancid smell of meat hit her nostrils and she winced as she walked to the counter where she waited for someone to make an appearance. It was empty in the butchers which contrasted the busy street she'd just come in from and the silence was broken only by the sound of footsteps.

After a couple of seconds, Oliver walked into view from a door behind the counter, removing his blood-stained apron as he did so, and upon seeing who was stood waiting, stammered a greeting and smiled almost awkwardly.

"R…Rose! I wasn't expecting to see you here." He ran a hand through his hair, pushing his wavy fringe out of his eyes.

Rose ignored his obvious discomfort and pushed the inclining that he was avoiding her to the back of her mind; she had more important things to worry about.

"I needed to talk to you… Winnie said you'd be here most of the day. What time does your shift finish?" Rose asked, glancing up to the clock above Oliver's head.

"I finish work at five."

"Then I'll come back in half an hour." She gave a small smile that didn't reach her emerald eyes and she smoothed the hems of the sleeves of her dress, which was deep blue and Oliver decided that she looked just as nice as she did in the green she'd worn yesterday and the red the day before that…

"I look forward to it." He said sincerely but Rose just cast her eyes down to the floor and nodded.

"Yes, well… see you later, then."

She turned and left without looking back and Oliver just stood, leaning over the counter with one arm slightly extended, watching her until she disappeared out of view.

"Bye…"

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True to her word, Rose returned nearly exactly half an hour later, just as Oliver was cleaning up. He was dressed in casual clothing again, a dark blue shirt and beige trousers replaced his white butcher's uniform and his hair was slightly dishevelled from where his hat had sat minutes before, and he smiled when Rose walked through the door.

"Hey, I'll just be a sec." He leant the broom he'd been holding against the counter and took the keys from beside it.

Rose said nothing just acknowledged his words with a quiet hum. She was visibly nervous; her hands were entwined in front of her but her upper-class upbringing did not allow her to sway from foot to foot as instinct was telling her to do at this moment. She felt morose, a feeling she'd become extremely close to the past few months, but she hadn't felt this way since she'd arrived at New York and got off the _Carpathia _alone. Void of emotion, numb.

_You need to tell him about Jack. _She hadn't spoken about Jack yet; the pain was so raw that even thinking about the fact that he was dead was enough to make her head spin and cause tears to burn in her eyes. She had to tell Oliver, though, that much she was sure of. It wasn't fair that he still thought his best friend was alive, probably expecting him to return home someday.

"Are you alright, Rose?" Rose jumped slightly as Oliver placed his hand over her shoulder and when she looked up; she saw concern in his eyes, alongside something else, something much deeper…

"Yes… fine. Would you like to take a walk?" She said boldly, shaking off the feeling that she'd seen that look in someone else's eyes of deep blue, a lifetime ago.

"I'd like that."

"Well, Rose, we've walked about a mile in no particular direction, chewed about how great the weather's been and my day at work, but I reckon that's not why you came to talk to me, is it?"

Rose was taken aback by the familiarity of Oliver's words and for a second she was cast back to a sunny afternoons walk on the grandest ship of all time with a man that now lay at the bottom of the ocean, instead of walking in the pre-dusk warmth with his best friend.

"There's a reason I came here, to Chippewa Falls." When Oliver made no reply, she took several deep breaths and continued, "It's because I had a… friend who was from here. I feel I have to tell you that he died, not long ago, in a terrible accident." The familiar sting of tears burned her eyes and she choked the next words out, body visibly shaking from the effort it was taking her not to weep.

"Jack Dawson's dead."

The words tore at her heart, worse than any pain she had ever experienced. She was drifting again, drifting stationary on a piece of driftwood and somewhere, someone was singing… Trying to wake Jack up, his hands and face had been _so cold _when hours before he'd been soft and warm… She was wrapped in his arms, trying in vain to learn the steps of an unchoreographed dance as his laugher and lips brushed against her ear… She was flying, and he, too, was with her, the world at their feet as they tore through the sea fearlessly, each too caught up in the other to think, even think, that anything could bring them down, tear them apart…

Oliver's head snapped up and he immediately stopped walking.

_It was all true. _Everything he'd been denying in his mind _was all true._

"I… I don't know what to say." He whispered his voice hoarse with emotion. The hope was gone, hope that it wasn't true; that his Rose couldn't possibly belong to the man he had let walk out of his life.

_It was all true._

"I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about, Rose, nothing at all." He snapped out of his trail of thought as he realised Rose was crying quietly, though clearly biting back more anguished tears, one hand covered her eyes and the other supported her arm. He took her in his arms and held her as the tears she wept for _him_ soaked through his shirt, as the sobs she cried for _him_ wracked his conscience and after only seconds he found that he too was crying.

Crying for what had happened to his best friend and the woman he had come to love.

Crying because he could never call her that.

Crying for what he had prevented and the pain he had caused, because, after all,

_It was all true._

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**Also, I've been thinking of changing the title of this story because 'Journey' was only ever meant to be temporary and frankly, kinda sucks! So if anyone has any suggestions that I like, I'll change it. **

**I'll let you get back to reviewing now! **


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